like it. Especially when it was by a man who couldn’t remember her name. Arrogant sod! Pride had her changing her mind. “Oh, I’m not quite ready to leave.” She looked toward the ballroom. “I think I’ll go back in.”
Jaci saw surprise flicker in his gorgeous eyes. He wanted to get rid of her, she realized, maybe because he was embarrassed that he couldn’t recall who she was. Not that he looked embarrassed. But still...
“Interesting seeing you again, Ryan,” she said in a catch-a-clue voice.
A puzzled frown pulled his brows together. “Maybe we should have coffee, catch up.”
Jaci shook her head and handed him a condescending smile. “Honey, you don’t even know who I am so what, exactly, would be the point? Goodbye, Ryan.”
“Okay, busted. So who are you?” Ryan roughly demanded. “I know that I know you...”
“You’ll work it out,” Jaci told him and heard him mutter a low curse as she walked away. But she wasn’t sure if he would connect her with the long-ago teenager who’d hung on his every word. She doubted it. Her mask was intact and impenetrable. There was no hint of the insecure girl she used to be...on the outside, anyway. Besides, it would be fun to see his face when he realized that she was Neil’s sister, the woman Neil, she assumed, wanted him to help navigate the “perils” of New York City.
Well, she was an adult and she didn’t need her brother or Ryan or any other stupid man doing her any favors. She could, and would, navigate New York on her own.
And if she couldn’t, her brother and his old friend would be the last people whom she’d allow to witness her failure.
“Then how about another kiss to jog my memory?” Ryan called out just as she was about to walk into the ballroom.
She turned around slowly and tipped her head to the side. “Let me think about that for a minute... Mmm...no.”
But hot damn, Jaci thought as she walked off, she was tempted.
Jaci slipped into the crowd and placed her fist into her sternum and tried to regulate her heart rate and her breathing. She felt as if she’d just experienced a wild gorge ride on a rickety swing and she was still trying to work out which way was up. She so wanted to kiss him again, to taste him again, to feel the way his lips moved over hers. He’d melted all her usual defenses and it felt as if he was kissing her, the real her. It was as if he’d reached inside her and grabbed her heart and squeezed...
That had to be a hormone-induced insanity because stuff like that didn’t happen and especially not to her. She was letting her writer’s imagination run away with her; this was real life, not a romantic comedy. Ryan was hot and sexy and tough, but that was what he looked like, wasn’t what he was. As you do, everybody wears masks to conceal who and what lies beneath, she reminded herself. Sometimes what was concealed was harmless—she didn’t think that her lack of confidence hurt anybody but herself—and occasionally people, including her ex-fiancé, concealed secrets that were devastating.
Clive and his secrets... Hadn’t those blown up in their faces? It was a small consolation that Clive had fooled her clever family, too. They’d been so thrilled that, instead of the impoverished artists and musicians she normally brought home to meet her family, she’d snagged an intellectual, a success. A politician. In hindsight, she’d been so enamored by the attention she’d received by being Clive’s girlfriend—not only from her family but from friends and acquaintances and the press—that she’d been prepared to put up with his controlling behavior, his lack of respect, his inattention. After years of being in the shadows, she’d loved the spotlight and the new sparky and sassy personality she’d developed to deal with the press attention she received. Sassy Jaci was the brave one; she was the one who’d moved to New York, who walked into crowded ballrooms, who planted her lips on the sexiest man in the room. Sassy Jaci was who she was going to be in New York, but this time she’d fly solo. No more men and definitely no more fading into the background...
Jaci turned as her name was called and she saw her friends standing next to a large ornamental tree. Relieved, she pushed past people to get to them. Her fellow scriptwriters greeted her warmly and Shona handed her a champagne glass. “Drink up, darling, you’re way behind.”
Jaci wrinkled her nose. “I don’t like champagne.” But she did like alcohol and it was exactly what she needed, so she took a healthy sip.
“Isn’t champagne what all posh UK It girls drink?” Shona asked cheerfully and with such geniality that Jaci immediately realized that there was no malice behind her words.
“I’m not an It girl,” Jaci protested.
“You were engaged to a rising star in politics, you attended the same social events with the Windsor boys, you are from a very prominent British family.”
Well, if you looked at it like that. Could she still be classified as an It girl if she’d hated every second of said socializing?
“You did an internet search on me,” Jaci stated, resigned.
“Of course we did,” Shona replied. “Your ex-fiancé looks a bit like a horse.”
Jaci giggled. Clive did look a bit equine.
“Did you know about his...ah...how do I put this? Outside interests?” Shona demanded.
“No,” Jaci answered, her tone clipped. She hadn’t even discussed Clive’s extramural activities with her family—they were determined to ignore the crotchless-panty-wearing elephant in the room—so there was no way she would dissect her ex–love life with strangers.
“How did you get the job?” Shona asked.
“My agent sold a script to Starfish over a year ago. Six weeks ago Thom called and said that they wanted to develop the story further and asked me to work on that, and to collaborate on other projects. So I’m here, on a six-month contract.”
“And you write under the pen name of JC Brookes? Is that because of the press attention you received?” Wes asked.
“Partly.” Jaci looked at the bubbles in her glass. It was easier to write under a pen name when your parent, writing under her own name, was regarded as one of the most detailed and compelling writers of historical fiction in the world.
Wes smiled at her. “When we heard that we were getting another scriptwriter, we all thought you were a guy. Shona and I were looking forward to someone new to flirt with.”
Jaci grinned at his teasing, relieved that the subject had moved on. “Sorry to disappoint.” She placed her glass on a tall table next to her elbow. “So, tell me about Starfish. I know that Thom is a producer but that’s about all I know. When is he due back? I’d actually like to meet the man who hired me.”
“He and Jax—the big boss and owner—are here tonight, but they socialize with the movers and shakers. We’re too far down the food chain for them,” Shona cheerfully answered, snagging a tiny spring roll off a passing tray and popping it into her mouth.
Jaci frowned, confused. “Thom’s not the owner?”
Wes shook his head. “Nah,
